Orbitals
by Chimaera Chameleon
Summary: Three moments, three meetings, three words around which their lives revolved. Pre-Loki/Sigyn.
1. Home

This is the first part of a three-part story. The second part will be a bit slower in coming - one last scene I'm trying to get JUST right. The third part is finished, but I still have to wait for the second one. Its how life goes, right?

Each part was partially inspired by a song and then named after the song. This first part was inspired by "This is Home" by Switchfoot.

This story was the starting point for the enormous series of stories Eleutherya and I are kinda co-writing. So go check out their stories as well!

And I suppose I have to say this: I do not own the characters and names you recognize. Loki and Sigyn are the joint property of Marvel and Norse mythology. Extra characters whose names you don't recognize are most likely my own and the plot is the demented brainchild of too much reading and not enough sleep.

Reviews are deeply appreciated but never demanded.

Enjoy!

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**Home **

_She was little more than a child, just entering adolescence, that day her world changed._

_He was very nearly an adult, at the tail end of adolescence, that day his world became a little brighter. _

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She didn't want to be here.

She hadn't wanted to leave her home, her family, everything familiar. It was all her mother's fault… or the midwife's… maybe even the Norns were at fault for this.

She blamed everyone and anything except herself, for she knew she had done nothing wrong (_she would have done the same thing all over again even knowing this would happen_),nothing to deserve being forced to leave everything she knew to live here in this place with the foreboding sky.

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Who could have guessed that the absence of one person of such insignificance would drive the Aesir into such turmoil?

He most certainly had not. Honestly, he could hardly even understand why everyone was so worried. He had done something similar countless times at that girl's age. Although, he had made certain it was at times when he was sure to be overlooked (for just this reason, incidentally).

He personally blamed all this on Freyja.

She was the one who insisted that her "dear, defenseless baby cousin simply had to be found" before letting the waterfall tears loose. Apparently those tears had magical properties of their own as immediately everyone was on their feet and ready to search all of Asgard.

Just not him – he had far more important things to do.

Alas, his mother had caught him as he was slyly inching his way out the throne room. She told him to pretend it was a game (_a "challenging game" she had said, like that one on Midgard with the black and white squares he enjoyed so much_) and promised he would be rewarded greatly if the girl was found by him and returned by sundown.

He supposed there might be worse games (_hit-the-other-person-with-a-stick is _not_ to be counted as a real game, Thor_) but he was hard-pressed to think of a single one. Although, there was that matter of an open-ended promise… his mother knew him far too well, apparently.

So, he just had to find one little girl? He knew every hiding place in the palace and most of the rest scattered throughout the city. It shouldn't take long.

He simply had to keep the others from finding her first.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSS

The search parties were getting closer; she could hear the voices of the men and women as they entered the gardens. Her body froze on top of the branch she was kneeling on.

_No. Go Away. Go away, go away, go away._

"Dear little cousin of Freyja! Are you here? Do not worry - we are here to return you to the safety of the palace!"

_Go away._

And then her foot slipped.

"Is that you, little Freyja-cousin?" Footsteps approached her tree. She heard more follow it, curious followers of the one who had heard her.

_No!_

"Are you stuck? Worry not, I, Gunnarr Jarlsson, shall help you!" He was walking around the tree now, looking for a way up. She closed her eyes tight and curled up, trying to be as silent as possible.

_Please. Please don't find me. _

"AAAHHHH!" Her eyes flew open when she heard the man scream. It was followed by silence and then giggles from the women.

"…a rabbit." Gunnar Jarlsson's voice declared, "Just a rabbit. Well, ladies, I hope you were not frightened with that, uh, little performance. Shall we continue our search elsewhere?"

The group swept out with an air of merriment and laughter.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you planning on returning any time soon?"

She almost fell off the branch, but caught herself and cringed. She hoped whoever was there hadn't heard that, was just trying to trick any unsuspecting-

"I know you are here. The seventh tree from the entrance, third row. And unless you are a very large child, you are sitting on that branch just above the bottom row that grows out a small ways and then bends straight up."

"How did you know that!?" she cried out in surprise. A quick, sharp bark of laughter rang out.

"Simple. It was a favorite spot of mine up until a few years ago. I discovered your location a few moments before those idiots stumbled in here. That oaf Jarlsson would have inadvertently found you if not for my trick with the rabbit. You may thank me."

"I- I'm sorry, what?" She heard someone exhale loudly beneath her as they leaned against the trunk.

"I placed a rabbit in the bushes near your tree, thus keeping your secret from the rest of the court. I am sure you will wish to escape again at some point – they can be so exhausting at the best of times and wholly unbearable the rest. And this is such an outstanding hiding place that to give it up so easily, especially to fools like that little band was, would be nothing short of a crime. A bit of gratitude would not be amiss."

"Oh, yes… thank you…" This was certainly a surprise. She never thought anyone here would be so… kind… not to a little insignificant spell-weaver, however unmeaning that may have been…maybe she was wrong, maybe living here wouldn't be so_-_

"Of course I _had_ been promised a great gift. I could hardly let anyone but myself find you."

_What?! _

"You… You…" she searched her mind for just the right thing to call him.

"You _swine!_"

The voice let out a snort.

"Is that the best you can do, little girl? I was trading better with my brother years ago, and he's hardly the epitome of witty retorts."

"It sounded better in my head…" she explained feebly.

"Well, try again."

This time she thought much harder. It wasn't often she was given a second chance, not with her brothers. She tried to think of the things they called each other – just not the ones related to bodily functions, she didn't think she'd be able to speak those without a bad taste in her mouth.

_This is going to be hard…_

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He heard her whispering to herself above him as she worked out an insult.

Thinking about it now, that first one wasn't as bad as he'd initially thought - especially considering her upbringing in Vanaheim and their distaste for the animals.

He just wanted to see what she could come up with.

"Inconsiderate, self-centered, juvenile wyrm-fodder!"

For a moment he remained silent, trying to wrap his head around whether what she said could actually be considered a curse or not.

"….wyrm-fodder?"

"_Juvenile_ wyrm-fodder… you're not even worthy of being adult wyrm-fodder."

"…you are absolutely terrible at this."

"Well, I'm sorry for not spending my time thinking up new insults! That was my brothers' jobs – I had to be the one keeping them from getting into worse trouble."

"I see, you were the obedient child, then."

She grumbled to herself.

"Mostly…" she finally said out loud, "just not when my mother was giving birth…" She trailed off.

"No no, please continue this train of thought. What happened?"

So, maybe he was a bit more gleeful than he should be at the thought of someone being disobedient. He personally didn't see that as a problem, just one of his many… virtues. And he might have snuck a bit of a persuasion spell in there. It wasn't as if anybody were there to reprimand him.

"Everyone figured out I was a healer… I didn't even know I was a healer! My sister came too fast and Mother wouldn't stop bleeding. I had sent my brothers to get the healer but they weren't there yet and she was dying and I didn't know what to do… Next thing I knew it was all white, and then black, and Mother wasn't bleeding anymore. When the healer got there I couldn't really explain what happen-"

"Did you say anything?" He interrupted sharply.

"Did I sa-?"

"Before everything went white. Did. You. _Say_ anything?"

"That's what the healer asked me. I couldn't recall saying anything, but then again all I remember was confusion and terror right at that point."

"Hmm… yes, you would only remember that…"

"What do you mean?"

"It was – ah, how shall I say it – instinctive magic. Not a rare trait among the Vanir, but uncommon enough when it emerges so late. And considering that it was as a healer, logically you would be sent here to learn from Eir. You are most fortunate."

"Fortunate!? How do you consider being forced to leave my home _fortunate?_"

"You were born female and with a talent for healing. You could have been born male and with a predilection to magic of the darker sort. That type has never been much sought after, and here in Asgard it is… looked down on highly."

He'd said too much. She would know now…

"Is… is there someone here like that? Who can use that kind of magic?"

_She doesn't know? No, it- it is nothing more than a trick. It has to be_. "Is the little girl trying to trick me? Or is she just ignorant?"

"I just got here! How am I supposed to know anything about this cursed place!? And could you stop calling me that? I'm not that little. And I _do_ have a _name_."

"Then, what is your name, little girl?"

"Sigyn Birgirdottir." There was a pause. Then, "Can I… know yours too?"

_Does she _truly_ not know? No matter. She will know it now. See how she likes being shocked._

"…Loki."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SSSSS

_Doesn't he have a-?_

Then the full-weight of the name hit. She'd been telling life stories to and insulting…

"Forgive me, Your Majesty! I didn't kn-"

"Oh, stop that. If I was that worried about titles and deference at the moment I would have given my name outright. I have had enough of it today. So just my name, I promise you will not be tortured or beheaded or any other such nonsense for it."

She wasn't sure if that reassured her. Torture? Beheading? Just where had she been sent? Or was this nothing more than a strange (_very _strange) sense of humor?

At this point it was really hard to tell.

But if he was insisting…

"Do you dislike being seen as who you are…Loki?" She stumbled over his name, saying it just a bit quieter than the rest of her question.

"It is not that. If they honestly respected me I would gladly accept it. But… '_Silvertongue will do terrible things to you', or 'be careful lest the Lie-smith talk you out of your head.' Or my particular favorite : '_Unnatural_ to have such dark power, Norn's-cursed and _unmanly_, unfit for a Prince of Asgard…_'" his voice caught for a moment, " _'Should have never been _born_..._'"

_He's the one with the…magic? _

She wanted to ask, to make sure (even if she knew the answer already), but she had heard in his voice that to do so would be asking for trouble.

"Do they… really say all that about you?" she asked instead.

"Are you saying I am a liar as well, now?"

"No! Of course not! I just… how could anyone say such things about anyone? Let alone their Prince!"

"Excessively easily, apparently. But because I am their Prince, they must pay lip-service to my father and brother whilst cursing me in their hearts. I may twist words and play with nuances but at least_ I_ have never hidden my serpent's tongue."

"Will it help…" she started bravely, "if I promise to never think of you that way?"

"One little girl against all of Asgard," he spat caustically, "What good will that do?" She shrunk back, terrified now as he seethed below her perch.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL LLLLLL

_What can a single person do against centuries of disapproval? How could she ever think she would make a difference?_

_I am used to solitude, suffering on my own, defending myself on my own... _

_Not even Thor –with his weakness, his inability to hate _anyone_ – can make them stop. He just makes them hide their feelings better._

_What could one. Little. Girl. _Possibly _do?_

He noticed then that it was completely quiet. The girl was no longer attempting to hurl her pathetically terrible diatribes at him. Instead…

He heard her trembling, trying not to breathe loudly. She was terrified of him. The first person he had found who was not family and did not despise him… and he was doing his very best to drive her into hatred.

He really was Norns-cursed, it seemed.

"Sigyn…" he said softly, "now you understand why they all hate me…"

There was a tiny intake of breath from the branches above, a thinly disguised sob.

"Why they say those things… they are afraid, and hate that they are so afraid… and so hate me**.**"

"I…" her voice was quiet, subdued, "I don't hate you… you scared me, but I don't hate you. I mean, my mother scared me, my little sister scared me and I don't hate them. "

"Then you do not know me well enough yet."

"But I promise! Even when I do know you better I won't hate you."

He shook his head in resignation. If she wished to be known as an oath-breaker... so be it.

But, time was running out. He needed to get her back before sundown and already it was nearing the horizon.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SSSSSS

She meant what she said.

Yes, he was frightening. Yes, he had a sense of humor that she barely understood. Yes, she sensed that he could be very, very dangerous.

But, she would never hate him. _Couldn't_, now that she had given her word, even if she wanted to.

She really hoped it never came to that.

"Now will you come down?" His voice brought her back to herself. "I need to get you back."

She sighed loudly but found no argument.

She made to pull herself up from the branch she was sitting on only to hear a very loud, very embarrassing RIIIIP as her skirt caught. She froze. As for the young man below…

He erupted into hysterical laughter.

LSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLS LSLSLS

It was unreal, it was unfair, it was mortifying…

…it was so very freeing.

To Sigyn it sounded like home.

To Loki it felt like a sunrise.


	2. War

****I would like to apologize for the long wait. I would _like to... _but unfortunately an apology implies that the event will not occur again and because I know myself so well... I'm afraid an apology would be a bit pointless.

A very large **thank-you** to everyone who reviewed, faved, and put this story on alert. I continue to write for you ^_^

Also, thanks to Eleutherya who pushed me to finish this chapter and edited it for me. (shameless advertisement: GO READ THEIR STORIES)

This chapter was inspired by the song War by Poets of the Fall.

Enjoy! :D

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**War**

How was he to have known? How was he to have ever even _imagined_ that such a ridiculous notion was the truth? Yet, truth it was.

_And all his life was a lie. _

She could not have known, could never have imagined in her most ridiculous daydreams that the words erupting from the rage inside… were true. He was the master of tricks, of lies.

_She believed him._

LSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLS LSLSLS

Awareness came slowly.

He possessed enough self-recognition to know that he had not fainted, had not been asleep. He had merely… ignored reality for a time. It explained why the hallway outside the Vault had become the familiar tall windows and book-stacks of the library. It explained why the mid-morning light now shone through the glass as mid-day sun.

It did not explain why he was prostrate on the floor, staring at the high, vaulted ceiling, nor the feeling of something tugging softly at his scalp. Nor why at the top of his vision a face framed with long, pale hair was too out of focus to see the features.

He moved his gaze from the ceiling to the wrong-side-up face. Of course.

_Sigyn._

The disjointed pieces of the last minute came together.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SSSSSS

He looked up at her, finally. The past several hours had been both a whirlwind and a slow torture. From his confession, to letting himself be led like a child to the place they both called haven, to the long waiting for his mind to return (she hadn't been certain it even would) – through it all her trepidation reminded her of the time this had happened once before.

It had been many years ago, not too long after her arrival in Asgard. He and his brother had left on a quest to Alfheim, seeking a dangerous beast or two, but returned not a day later, the younger all but carrying the elder (she didn't know how he had managed to shoulder the weight but carry it he did). Eir had placed the younger in her care as it was the eldest who was gravely injured and needed the attention of a master. He had frightened her. The next several days he did not speak, did not eat, did not appear to be aware of anything at all. Nothing changed until his brother stood before him and pleaded with him to return.

She had admitted to herself that she was somewhat jealous then – all her attentions, days of worry and sleepless nights were _ignored_ but a word from another brought him back. She understood _now_ why this was so – he had watched the brother he dearly loved be nearly slaughtered before him and had to endure carrying the quickly-fading body back himself. It made rational sense that he would wake at that voice.

This though…

He had not almost lost a brother.

He had lost his entire family, his very identity. If this was like the first time… he had nothing here worth waking to.

Which was why, when his eyes met hers and they were no longer unfocused and faint of spirit, she breathed, at last, a deep sigh of relief.

"What happened?" His voice just above a murmur.

"I found you wandering the hallways. You told me what your father said and then you just… stopped… like that one time when your broth- I brought you here. You did not need everyone gawking at you. And Asgard needs to see your family as strong right now**."**

(She did not say how he had clung to her desperately the moment she was at his side, how her shoulder was only now fully dry, the horrified whispers of how he was a monster, had hurt his father… He did not need a wounded pride on top of a shattered identity.)

"…but why am I on the floor?"

He seemed… perturbed at that realization.

"The floor is clean – your clothing will not be soiled. I know how much you care for appearance."

He narrowed his eyes at her in irritation but didn't move. The pensive frown between his eyes didn't leave either. She sighed – it hadn't worked.

"I am sorry. I just wanted to see you smile again. Before, that had been enough…"

"Please do not try and make me smile now. It will not succeed."

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If he wasn't so confused, and angry, and fighting a rising terror at the implications of everything his Fath-Odi- the Alfather had told him, she might have been able to make him smile, laugh even. She had, from their first meeting, always tried to understand his very different way of thinking and meet him halfway.

She wasn't always successful but the awkward attempts were endearing.

That she tried at all was… captivating. Nobody else had done so for him, for the man who was all but impossible to grasp.

"…I did not want you to fall."

Her voice drew him back. One of her hands moved from where they cradled his head (_so that was what I felt) _to rest on his shoulder.

"What was that?"

"Why you lie on the floor. You had asked? I was worried… what with you not being completely aware of anything, that you would injure yourself if let alone. If you lie down you cannot fall…"

Her voice trailed away into silence, leaving her awkward explanation unfinished. His mother's lessons insisted he thank her, but he didn't trust himself to speak. Not yet. Not when his mind was so disordered, in need of direction.

The truth was that she was wrong. He may have been unaware of her presence, unaware of the passing of time, but he was very aware of one thing: that his life was collapsing around him. His mind could hardly take in everything he had been told, everything he had seen. Confusion, horror, anger, grief, desperation – all had swirled together in his mind until, like the nebulae obscuring and filtering the light of distant stars, he forgot everything else. He had been lost with no hint of direction, no glimmer of relief, and his shattered mind had simply given up trying to understand it all.

And now, waking to the world once again . . . he almost wished he could slip back into that cloud of forgetfulness...

"…up. Loki!"

She wouldn't let him, unfortunately.

"Why will you not let me handle this in peace?" He snapped.

"Because you are _not _handling it! Giving yourself over to nothingness is not the way to let your mind find peace."

"Then what would you suggest?" He asked testily as he, again, leveled a glare her way.

"Just… just talk with me. Keep speaking."

He heaved a sigh.

"What do you wish for me to say? Am I to pour my soul out to you? Am I to trust that if you were to just guarantee it then all will be _well _again and the agony of this knowledge would disappear like the sea into the skies below?" He raised his hands from where they had laid at his sides.

He could almost see the frozen hue still staining his skin.

"Would you promise-"

"Do. _Not._ Make me. Promise. Anything. You know very well what could happen!"

"Yet you _still_ insist that all will be set right. That everything can go back to what once was – back to a delusional dream of an untrue existence. It _cannot_ be set right! It was never right to _begin_ with! If you are discerning enough to refuse your promise of something to hope for then cease _mollifying_ me with your _false platitudes_!" He was screaming and gulping air by the end. Only the firm hand on his shoulder kept him from his attempt to rise.

_She cannot understand! Not this. No matter how much she may want to or try to._

_How can one understand something they have never been and never will be? _

Her cheeks were damp when he finally let his gaze return to her. He ignored the wetness on his own.

"Tell me." She whispered finally after a few more tears fought their way out.

_Tell her what? What does she want to know?_

He let his eyes close and, in lieu of any further prompting, he started from the beginning, breathing slowly once again and forcing himself to keep his voice soft.

"What do you suppose it would feel like to hold the Casket of Ancient Winters? For you – were you to touch it?"

"Well… I imagine it would be cold, obviously. And… I am sorry, but I have never actually seen it. Why are you asking?"

"It was not cold – not like I've felt cold before. It was… like something frozen for so long it no longer needed to be cold to retain its freezing qualities. Something so old and so powerful that one could never begin to understand it. And it... it called to me." _Called to its own. To the… monster. _ "I could feel something… something in my fingers when I touched it. In some way... I think I understood it. And it was as if... as if it knew who I was. I could hear it… like a heartbeat. Like my own heartb-"

He broke off suddenly, fighting off a new wave of emotion, remembering what it felt like to hold the Casket in his hands. He knew it would haunt his nightmares forever . . .

"...and I began to change."

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Almost against her will, she felt her fingers grip the fabric of his shirt harder, hold ever-so-slightly tighter to the strands of soft hair between her fingers.

She watched his eyes open and his gaze return to the tall ceiling. Wide and wild and terrified.

"My hands… are monstrous. The ice spreading like some accursed sickness through my veins. And… then he is there, telling me that I am… I am this beast the Winter revealed. It is no trick. I am the- the spawn of his hated enemy. I cannot understand!" She saw the dark clouds in his eyes readying themselves for a storm. "Why tell me all my life that I am his son!? _Why,_ when he always knew that- does he think I would never discover the truth? That I will forever placate myself with insipid words of false affection, when… when I was never something that could be-"

"The Alfather could not have meant any of that. None of us dare to-"

"Do you not understand? He _lied_ to me! I am to him nothing more than a pawn, a tool to be used and then discarded when my usefulness is over!"

She let him scream. She let him weep. She let him hurl abuse and curses and terror and betrayal at her, as if she were the cause of it all.

She held him firm – the rocky outpost at sea that withstands the lashings of the wind, the warring and raving of the elements.

No stone ever did so much for the storm.

"I am nothing more to my- the Alfather than… than a _disappointing GAMBLE_! Even as a false son, even with so few expectations… I have never managed to please him…"

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He did not care. He was grateful. He was _furious!_ He was in such agony…

He refused to let the pain go.

It had kept him from shattering before, had always been the focal point around which he could rebuild his strength when his hopes and aspirations failed.

The pain had never abandoned him like so many others…

But he hated it. Oh, how he _hated_ it!

The way he needed to rely on something so… base, so primitive.

It suddenly made perfect sense to him why his very core accepted and welcomed the pain and the fear and the failure. He was nothing but a monster and so such things… were only natural.

Monsters thrived on fear.

Monsters curled in on their pain and let it fester.

Monsters always failed…

How could the Alfather have done such a thing? How could he have thought that a monster would ever be anything but that which it was born to be?

How cruel was Fate to dangle such delicacies - love, acceptance, hope – before a monster. To let it think such things were attainable…

When all along it was never going to have any of them…

He never wanted to be a Monster...

He was hardly aware of the woman above him, holding him, centering him, taking everything…

Taking nothing she deserved.

A part of him… _saw._

The harsh words thrown his way.

_She never took part in them._

The glorious returns of the Oaf from battles that left him behind in the shadows.

_She always saw to him first, wounds or no wounds, with an eye-lightening smile that no person could fake._

And her promise, so many, many years ago, to never hate him.

He who was, as of this moment, _everything_ she should fear and hate.

_The Monster._

But if… if someone like her could find it in themselves to… not hate everything he was, maybe…

A tiny spark, a small ray of light making its way through the storm, came alight in his mind and slowly overtook his fears and pain. He saw clearly.

"I see now…"

Her eyes came into focus, bright with tears and concern. She murmured his name, questioning.

Her eyes asked him a thousand questions, but he remained silent.

He had to think. He had to try and…

Asgard would never be able to accept him now, not as he was, not _who_ he was.

But… she did not care. Had never cared that Asgard hated him yet loved her. If… if he were to…

No.

No, not yet.

He had to be worthy first.

The Alfather, as well, would have to be convinced. But what could he possibly do to make him see that he _was_ worthy to be called his-

A thousand thoughts, a thousand plans, a thousand plots warred for dominance.

If he could just make them all _see_ that he was Asgardian: not a monster, not _Jotun! ,_ not…

Of course.

He still had many strings to move into place, many tasks that had yet to be determined… but it was a solid scheme. Powerful in its simplicity.

World-shattering in its results.

He would no longer be the hated one; he would be worthy of his title, worthy of her... His heritage would not matter, not when he had proved himself separate from such monsters…

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SSSSSS

The library was silent. For many minutes it was only his breathing, the rustle of her sleeves - fingers meant to soothe as they combed through his hair. She watched as clear, bright pools of deepest green stared at nothing. But not blank, not distant, merely intent thought.

"It seems that I need not fear another one of these… episodes." He mused to himself finally, eyes focusing. "Nothing more can shock me or hurt me worse than today's revelation."

She let him think a moment before replying.

"I am glad for that, at least, even if it had to be this way. I never told you how much you terrified me that first time." His eyes snapped back to hers.

"Ah, yes… they told me you had been the one to watch over me. I never thanked you for that…" his brow creased, "If you could accept anything from a creature like myself."

"Why would I not? Are you not the very same Loki I have known since that day in the gardens? That person I have never had any reason to fear or hate? Why should this discovery change any of that?"

"I am... I. _Am_ something to be feared and hated… not Aesir, not even of Vanaheim, or Alfheim - those at least would still be acceptable. But…" his face twisted in disgust, "Jotunnheim, Frost Giant, eternal enemy to everything we have known – how can you even stand to look at me?"

_How can I…?_

Had he not been listening to everything she had said, everything she had _done,_ for the past several hours!?

"It does not matter. No," she said firmly when she saw him start to speak, "I care not who your parents may or may not be, I care not what you have been told, whether it be truth or falsehood. I am still your friend and I do not hate you. I never _could_ hate you."

She saw his mind working for a moment, eyes darting from hers to stare at the ceiling again.

"…only a friend?" The words were said lightly, almost casual in tone, but she felt his shoulders and back go tight.

She paused, chose her words carefully.

"I am whatever you need me to be."

He opened his mouth, ready to reply, caught himself, and she saw something spark in his eyes before his jaw closed tight.

The minutes passed in near silence, the faint chirping of birds in the garden beyond the windows almost louder than their breath. He was thinking, she could see, thinking intently – warring thoughts battling just as fiercely as the warriors who defended Asgard. But the brightness of his eyes was a relief after the hours of nothing. So she waited.

"Sigyn…" he whispered at last, refusing to meet her gaze, "I will have need of you very soon. Will you wait a brief while? Four days, four short days. This infernal war with Jotunnheim will be done, and all will be well at last."

"Of course." She leaned down and gently pressed her lips to his brow, soothing fingers still smoothing through his hair. She felt his body relax from the prepared-to-flee-or-fight tension.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway caused her to pull away suddenly, while the man lying in her lap shot to his feet too quickly, grabbing a chair for a brief moment before straightening fully, expressionless. A guard entered the library and dropped to a knee when he spied the prince.

"Your Majesty, the Queen requests your presence in the Sleep Chamber."

"You may tell her I will be with her momentarily. You are dismissed."

He waited until the guard left before turning back to the young woman.

"Four days," he said, a rare, pleased smile starting to form at the corners of his mouth and his eyes glittering with something she could have almost said was happiness, "I will come find you in four days, Sigyn. Be waiting."

She returned his smile. If not even a summons to see his Father as he slept, especially _now_, managed to drive away the pleasure he received from whatever it was he had planned…. Far be it for her to try and stop him.

"I will hold you to that promise. Four days, Loki. Find me or I will find you."

He laughed for the first time in what seemed like days and drew her into a quick embrace, pressing his lips lightly to the crown of her head.

"I do not doubt it." He said.

LSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLS LSLSLS

Two days later he disappeared.

Two days after that, so did she.


	3. Pieces

I present to you all the final part of this story.

Thank you to everyone who has decided to click on the link and give my story a chance! A gigantic thank you to Eleutherya for editing.

On that note, Eleutherya has written a few one-shots that tie in slightly with this last part. So, go read them when they're up ^_^

This part was inspired by the song Pieces by Red. (that song just about made me cry the first time I heard it)

Hope you've enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it :D

* * *

**Pieces**

It was a long journey to this place: begging her Queen for a chance, leaving her home (_which was far easier than she had expected)_, convincing the men in black suits that she was valuable while never revealing all. Now she was walking down a brightly lit hallway to the bottom of the ship, the last step of her journey.

Finally, she would see him again.

It was a long journey to this place: begging his (_not_) father for a chance, leaving (_abandoning_) his home (_which had never accepted him anyway_), convincing the man with black intent that he was valuable while never revealing all. Now he was in a temporary cage, awaiting his time – one step closer to his goal. Soon.

Very soon he would receive his due.

SLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSL 

At first, the man in the cage looked at her with suspicion. She knew he would not recognize her immediately, not with the changes life on Midgard had brought about. His eyes slid over the dark slacks and blouse without recognition, caught for a moment upon hair that was cut far shorter than he would have ever seen on her, before finding her eyes and freezing, lines of concentration forming upon his brow and around his eyes.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL 

He… knew this person. He didn't know how, or why, but she was familiar. Every step measured, he could predict when the next footstep would ring through the empty air – he knew these steps. The dark suit was familiar, but only because he had seen the same on many of the wretched mortals this ship boasted. So, it was not that. The hair, like winter's sun, he felt he should know. But it was even shorter than his own, unfeminine, practical. Never had he known a woman who kept her hair that length. Her eyes…

Yes. He knew those eyes. So dark in this lighting as to seem black, he knew they would lighten to a midnight sky when the sun shone full upon them. A smile -mocking, ironic, dangerous - grew slowly as she approached his cage.

"It has been far too long, my old, _dear_ friend." The words flowed like a sweet poison. "Have you come begging my return? Or are you to be my warden? Yes, of course, if brutish strength swayed me not, perhaps the softness of a harpy with a cold heart of steel. The Alfather employs subtlety then, at last?"

"I'm not here under any orders to return you or sway you, save my own compulsion."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Do you remember the promise you gave me? And my answer?"

"What is one promise to a liar and a deceiver?"

"This is my answer – you did not come to me, so I left to find you."

"And so you have found me." He laughed and saw her cringe. "What will you do now? I am caged for the moment. I wager you hardly expected our reunion to be through such a barrier."

"I had hoped to find you sane and hale."

"Oh how naïve you are, girl," He spat and turned his back to her, refusing to look into her eyes… those eyes that he knew could sway him from his purpose.

(She had always had that rare ability to discern his schemes and _challenge_ him - with naught but a look! - to abandon them…)

"You cannot honestly believe we have anything to discuss now," he spoke to the darkness beyond the curve of his cell wall, "I am beyond caring what Odin wants, what the populace of Asgard thinks, what you see me as. I aspire to greater purposes. More than what a gilded cage can offer, more than I could expect from one who was raised to be a part of that cage."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS 

_Do. Not. Let. Him. Rile. You. _

She breathed deeply, ignoring how much it stung (_How can he have forgotten who we were?!), _how her heart wanted to _shatter_ when he proclaimed their ties broken and gone…

"You have no idea what I have gone through to find you."

"Oh? I am sure I can relate. Try being ripped apart with the pieces scattered across the worlds. Try dying a thousand different ways, a thousand different times. Watching all the possibilities unfold before your very eyes and knowing that the life you are living is the worst of them all. Were your own experiences such as this, or did the Alfather's power keep you safe and coddled during your journey?"

She didn't know what she could possibly say to that.

"…Well? I'm waiting. Speak."

"Your father does-"

He finally spun to face her, coat whirling furiously, and directed a glare over her head.

"He is. Not. My. _Fath_-"

"_Doesn't! _Know. I'm here. When you… left, disappeared… I searched everywhere for something, _anything,_ that would show me where you went, or tell me what happened to you. When I found nothing, I asked your mother for help. She could tell me but little – only that eventually I would be needed here on Midgard. I remembered, then, what you had said about paths other than the Bifrost and how you had discovered a few of your own… When I found one that led here I walked it. And I did… see things, learned things that I wish I could forget. With the Bifrost gone all the paths are dangerous now."

He finally met her eyes again and she _saw._

Pride. The unbreakable stones of Asgard's wall.

Fragility. The ice at the center of a lake.

Sickness. The green of a young warrior in their first battle.

And beneath it all the madness of the eternity of the Void.

She had walked the path and seen the horrors, but he had found no path… had not just _seen_ the horrors…

He had fallen through them, had _lived_ them.

She understood him, then, as much as she was able.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL 

The softness in her eyes was nigh imperceptible.

But he saw.

She felt for him.

She _pitied _him…

He clenched his jaw, his fists.

He had to do something, say something, to turn that contemptible softness upon itself.

Make her hate him, fear him – it was more tolerable than pity.

"I see now – you have come to bring the Tesseract back. _That_ is your ultimate purpose. Again I am no more than a means to an end."

"You know that is untrue."

"And I would know untruth, would I not, being the Liar of the Nine Realms?"

"Those are your words. Do not falsely call them mine."

"Then I have more words for you. Do you not find it dismaying that you have come to the end of your journey and found nothing but a monster in a cage? How long have you searched? How many days wasted for something that does not. Even. Exist?"

_(Maybe in one of those more pleasant universes he had once been this… person she wishes him to be. But not now.)_

"Don't say that. The man I knew is still there. And I know he can come back-"

_(In every life he's lived she is the same…)_

"That man. Never. Existed. You have imagined it all!"

She ignored the obvious lie. He had half-expected her to do so anyway.

_(Promises him everything…)_

"I will be there when he does return."

_(She always gives up. Leaves him at that moment when it becomes too much_.)

"Audacious girl."

_(Or is it _him_ that always gives up too soon?_

_He… doesn't know anymore.)_

"Well, I would have to be to handle you."

Impudent, senseless woman!

Did she not understand?

_(All he knows is the burning _need_ to succeed in this conquest.)_

He didn't want anyone. Didn't want help. Didn't want to return somewhere he has never belonged.

He wanted to throw these facts back in her face, watch the stubborn hope fade from her gaze.

So he did.

It did not work – still she remained, a slender sapling standing firm through a storm.

(_She is keeping him from it, dredging up confusing maybe-memories of a life too good to be true…)_

He kept up his assault (stood his ground) before her persistence.

"Let me enlighten you, then, to everything I have done: Ousting Asgard's hero for the warmonger he was at heart, usurping the Alfather's throne-"

"If you genuinely believe any of that was your fault-"

"-attempted destruction of one of the Nine Realms and genocide of a race unable to defend itself, conspiring alongside a mighty force for the sole purpose of enslaving another of the Nine Realms-"

He watched as her eyes widened.

(_…and now she will abandon him… every person has their breaking point, a price too high for the prize…)_

"-and, finally, my intention of gifting to an enemy of all the Realms an item to make said enemy a true power to be reckoned with. Any being who claims citizenship of Asgard is all but required to consider me a traitor. Do you understand now? I can never go back to who you think I was. So stop_. Trying_."

"You were my dearest friend once, remember? We knew each other better than any other ever could. Do you honestly think I would just give up on any of my friends, let alone the one who knew me more than I knew myself?"

"Can you not comprehend that I do not _want _to go back? How many times must I say it!? Leave. Me. _Alone_. Insignificant. Guttersnipe. Or must I resort to threats!"

"You cannot make me leave! I do _not_ fear you. Not now. Not after everything I've seen and done to find you."

(_**hurt her before she hurts you**_)

"I see, you believe yourself to be safe. But think, these walls hold me only for the moment. I can wait. And then, when I am free I will find all those who opposed me. This promise I _will _not forget. I will come for _you_, Sigyn."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS 

That should have frightened her. The way he hissed her name, as if through the fangs of a snake. She didn't allow herself to think of the danger she could be placing herself in. All she allowed herself to hear was the desperation in his threats.

"That's all I wanted in the first place."

She watched the madness blazing in his eyes freeze, noxious conflagration entombed within unmelting ice.

"That day… I would have asked you to marry me, to bind your life to mine." His words were harsh.

"I would have said yes."

"But, would you have still held to your vows when I fell? If I had listened to everything my foolish emotions were demanding and married you then and there, with no thought of how everything would transpire, would you have followed me blindly into the void? No, I know precisely what would have happened." He sneered, "'_Poor dear_,' they would all croon, '_married to a _monster_. It's all_ _well and good that he's gone now, but such a shame for her. _Ruined _forever_.'" He turned away with a snarl to pace the cage.

"You don't know that!" She slammed her palms against the outside of his cage, finally frustrated to the point of action (why couldn't he just understand that _she_ was not his enemy?_)_, and leveled a glare in his direction. He looked up but didn't stop his movement, keeping his gaze on her as he strode back and forth. She had the distinct impression of a starved wolf preparing to devour its prey.

"Don't I? I saw it. They smother you - with condolences, with pity, with scorn. Never leaving you at peace… never giving you a moment to yourself… never letting you see that it is always _they_ who are_ wrong_!" The wolf struck, flying to where she stood and slamming his own palms where hers lay, with only the glass between them. "_They! Not I!"_ He hissed at her, teeth bared. She never once flinched but kept her gaze steady on his, forcing herself to remain level-headed.

Forcing her heart to beat steadily. Forcing it not to break at his words.

_How could he have seen something so impossible? I would have never denied him, never given up on him, never hated him. I never _could_ do any of that. I promised…_

He was trying to push her away. Had been trying the moment she realized he was so very lost in his madness.

"What can I say that would make you believe me?"

"Nothing." Ice glared into midnight. "Nothing you say will make a difference, not anymore."

His eyes were so full of hatred: toward his once-family, his abandoned home, every realm that could never accept him, toward his own refusal to accept the inevitable. They were so full of rage for what had been done to him and what he had brought upon himself. So full of agony, hidden deep beneath that armor of hate and anger…

(A part of who he once was… was still there, trapped far, far beneath the apathy and the sickness.)

… and then then she knew.

(Not something she had promised but, before he had lost himself, something she had pledged.)

"What do you need of me?" She asked. She watched him curl into himself, outstretched fingers tightening into fists against the glass, eyes closing as if in pain.

"Don't say that…" he murmured.

"What do you need of me?" She asked louder.

"Stop…" His head jerked to the side.

"_What do you need of me?!" _She screamed.

"I _need_ for you to stop saying _those words!" _ He roared back at her. She watched him take ragged breath after ragged breath, chest heaving to force air between clenched teeth.

"I don't. Want. To need you." He spoke every word as if it were torn from the deepest part of him. "To need anything you. That _anyone._ Can give. I want to… to _hate _you… and I _can't_. Not when you say that."

"Then you do need something."

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL 

(_For a moment his mind is almost clear, the voices, the burning, fading away…_)

He needed everything from her, everything he had long been denied: forgiveness, warmth, understanding.

Trust.

A home.

Most of all he just needed her there beside him, needed someone on his side. He was not unselfish enough to make her leave now, not when-

_What do you need of me?_

-her words promised something he wanted, needed desperately.

_What do you nee-_

"Stay," he choked out.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS 

She watched his shell crack, watched the already broken man beneath reveal himself. He was almost beyond recognition, a far cry from the man she had once known and cared so deeply for.

He collapsed to his knees, forehead connecting softly against the glass, and she heard a strangled sound, a word.

"Stay."

She had to be just as insane as him, just as foolish and cracked and corrupt, but she couldn't leave him now - not after everything she'd already done for him and not when all he needed now was for her to simply… stay. Maybe she was just as twisted as he if staying with him like this now made more sense than taking him back to Asgard.

Maybe he was right – he had ruined her, would ruin her further.

Maybe she no longer cared.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL 

He heard (_felt)_ her kneel outside the glass wall. His eyes opened automatically (_I am whatever you need me to be…)_ and saw her gazing at him steadily.

If she were wise she would leave him to rot in his own sickness.

He was greatly pleased that she was not.

Tomorrow, he would probably turn on her, or pull her down with him, and-

"I will ruin you," he breathed, "I will completely destroy you."

-she would despise him, or else grow as sick as he-

"I am staying, Loki."

-but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Not now with that gaze of a sunless, moonless, starless sky looking upon him with… nothing he could identify (he couldn't find it within himself to even dare think the word_)._

It wasn't hate, though. It wasn't that which she had promised to never do all those centuries ago.

Tomorrow the creature-shell (_the burning)_ would return - the cracks scabbed over, the man within still broken but now having found a raw edge (_a soul that understands, that knows what he is in his decaying, dying core)_ to commiserate with and come crawling back to when everything else was lost.

Tonight…

Was simply her staying here with him.

SLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSLSL 

She had always been calm and soothing, a balm to his rough soul. But, now, she had rough edges of her own.

He had always had jagged edges, her dearest friend. The edges had fractured further since his journey through places unspeakable.

It was only here, after the winding paths of fate had left them shattered, that the broken pieces of their souls found the matching edges.


End file.
